Doctor Who: The Regeneration of Fate (The Next Doctor)
by The Cyberman of Telos
Summary: After their hectic confrontation against the New Dalek Empire, the new Doctor with Donna arrives in London, 1851, during Christmas. But to their surprise, they encounter not only the deadly Cybermen, but a charismatic adventurer who claims to be the Doctor...Part 2 of "The Regeneration of Fate" series, set in an AU where the 10th Doctor regenerates fully in The Stolen Earth.
1. The double the Time Lord, the better

_**Regeneration of Fate - The Next Doctor - Chapter 1 - The double the Time Lord, the better...**_

If ever the cheeriest period of the year had arrived, it was now. Carols ringing across the streets was commonplace, as was the fluttering snowflakes that decorated the entire landscape. It was winter, and Christmas was on its way!

Presents would be delivered to the rich and the poor, while everyone wore their warmest clothes and of course markets opened up all around the city to offer its residents the luxuries of Christmas dinners. Roast turkey was especially fashionable as it would be for many years to come.

But some events could still be out of the ordinary, as was such in this strange wide universe. Whom would ever expect that on a frosty morning like this, when market day is in full force and chimneys are pouring smoke from fuzzily lit fires into the sky, that a blue box that was about a century early in being commonplace would fade in and out of existence onto one lone street?

Why, a travelling Time Lord and his human companion of course!

The new TARDIS's engines hummed peacefully as its dematerialisation circuit finally pushed its every atom out of the spiralling Time Vortex and onto the old London street that was still filling with snow.

Approaching the snowy pavement below his feet, the emerging Doctor sniffed the scent in the air before licking the particles in the air off his finger to figure out where and perhaps when about they'd landed. The TARDIS hadn't been much help in identifying the year and location, but from what the Time Lord could tell from the air this was most likely London, either in the late 18th century or the 19th.

The bricks in the buildings were at least over 50 years old, there was still traces of a rather disgusting sewage system, and there was most certainly no sign of electricity whatsoever!

"How is it out there spaceman?" Donna Noble called from the Type 40 capsule's interior. She had wanted to avoid the mistake she'd made on her first official trip to an alien planet (where they'd encountered the Ood) where she'd not realised whether the weather was warmer or in this case colder than what she was used to on Earth.

"You'll live as long as you put something fairly warm on." The Doctor replied, casually manoeuvring away from the Police Box exterior and towards the sounds of Christmas Carols that echoed from the nearby streets.

Shortly afterwards, Donna stepped out of the TARDIS wearing a warm jacket that wasn't quite suitable for the pre-20th century period, but it was nonetheless comfortable.

"What year is this then? Definitely not Roman times by the looks of things." She quickly followed in her friend's footsteps.

"Let's find out, shall we?" The Doctor suggested enthusiastically as the two entered a street through of carollers and several Londoners each taking part in what appeared to be some sort of market day.

After admiring the carollers for a few seconds, the Doctor approached a urchin, whose poverty was evident in his tattered clothes and somewhat desperate expression. Interrupting the boy in his fruit selling, he questioned; Oi, young man! What day is this?

"Christmas Eve sir!" The child answered innocently, thinking that he was being tested.

"What about the year then?" Donna stepped in, snowdrops now falling onto her red hair.

"Is your friend thick or something?" The urchin frowned at the Time Lord.

The Doctor sighed, grasping his hands and he peered down at the boy; "Look, just be a good lad and answer her question."

The urchin gave in; "Year of our Lord 1851, sir."

Enthusiasm on the Time Lord's face dropped a bit. Secretly, he'd been hoping for a more exotic year on Earth to travel to in this new incarnation. "Ah. I see. Not a particularly memorable year, but-"

"We're in Victorian times!" Donna beamed, now staring at the vintage Victorian scenery around them. "Look at it – Victorian London. I don't think I've ever seen London look so different in my life..."

This lifted the Doctor's enthusiasm slightly. Whenever his companions appreciated a certain aspects of their travels more than he did, it always brought a smile to his face and made him forget the mundanities that he'd become bored whenever he travelled alone.

But nothing could've changed his mood entirely like the cry of help that suddenly rung from an alleyway a short distance away. "DOCTOR!"

"That can't be right!" The youthful looking time traveller with a pointy chin exclaimed, briefly removing his black fedora to make sure he hadn't misheard.

Donna had heard it too and pointed in the direction of the alleyway; "It came from there, come on!"

Rushing into more presumed adventure and excitement only hours after tackling a universal cataclysm of a Dalek evil scheme, the time travellers arrived beside a feisty black woman in her mid-20s. She was shouting again as she stared at the doors of Victorian warehouses, complete with barrels and very tall walls.

"Alright, I've got this under control!" The Time Lord tried to reassure the girl, taking command of the situation. "Just to leave it to us."

But the woman didn't seem to pay much attention to them as something hard and strong banged against the doors of the nearest warehouse, showing a ferocious amount of strength.

"Alright, this makes sense. Something very unfriendly indeed is behind those doors…Not to worry! You just run off and get to safety, while my friend and I-" The Time Lord mumbled in a very fast pattern of speech, only for the young woman to ignore him again.

"DOCTAAAA!" She yelled at the top of her lungs, not unlike the way Donna had done so a fair few times.

"Is she deaf or something? I can see you here just fine. I mean, no offence, but-" Donna remarked quietly, but the Doctor quickly hushed her so that he could figure out the problem methodically.

Talking right at the young Victorian woman, he kindly pointed out; "Excuse me, I'm right here! Hello?! That's me!"

The woman reacted in a mix of bewilderment and frustration; "Don't be stupid, who are you?"

"Why, I'm the Doctor!" The youthful looking time traveller insisted, as Donna watched the woman's reactions with curiousity.

The woman's confusion became even more apparent. "Doctor who?" She exclaimed.

"Y'know, just the Doctor. The one and only!" The Time Lord tried to reassure her of his identity. Considering the events at play here, surely she wasn't calling a medical Doctor to assist with whatever fearsome beast or creature lay beyond the warehouse doors?

"Well there can't be two of you!" Groaned the woman, more than concerned enough about the thing still crashing against the doors. Suddenly, something caught her eye and she turned over to call out; "Where the hell have you been?"

Within seconds, a tall, lively and dashing man rushed towards the woman, dressed in an exaggerated get-up made up of a frockcoat, a waistcoat and many other dandified features which even made Donna raise an eyebrow.

"Right then, don't worry, stand back, what have we got here then..?" The heroic man stood on guard, taking a stance and expression that was very similar to the Doctor's predecessor…As if he were loving the excitement of danger!

"Doctor, that's not...?" Donna started as her jaw nearly dropped. She had recognised the type of behaviour the man was encompassing!

"No, impossible." Muttered the Time Lord before he addressed the man himself; "Just hold up a minute! Who are you supposed to be?"

Smiling gleefully at having to introduce himself, the man said; "I'm the Doctor. Simply, the Doctor. The one, the only, and the best."

Abruptly, the doors crashed again with the biggest pummel of strength from the creature behind yet. Just what was a thing like that doing in a warehouse?!

The Other Doctor turned his attention to the boom from the doors, and hurriedly motioned to the woman; "Rosita! Give me the sonic screwdriver!"

"The what?!" The Eleventh Doctor bellowed as he and Donna exchanged the most bewildered looks they'd had in a long time.

And to their surprise, they both glanced the Other Doctor immediately being handed a shiny object which was clearly the shape of some sort of Screwdriver!

In a classic Victorian tone of authority, the Other Doctor ordered the woman named Rosita; "Now quickly, get back to the Tardis!"

"_Back to the what?!"_ The Doctor and Donna exclaimed simultaneously, their brains still trying to process what the Other Doctor had just spoken.

Now shooing the two of them away, the Other Doctor advised; "If you could stand back, Sir, Miss. - this is a job for a Time Lord!"

"Job for a-" Donna repeated, before her Time Lord friend finished her sentence; "_What Lord?!_"

CRASH! The warehouse doors finally burst open with a large bang, followed by a few splinters scattering away from the bottom. And soon, like a vicious dog, the creature within revealed itself to those standing up against it…

It was a Cybershade! A small little ruffian of a beast with a bronze-shaped head that was similar to that of a normal Cyberman head, only masked and ghoulish as it swathed in some black robes and a hood. Though its metallic hands gave the appearance of witch-like features, which were quite unsuitable for something to be found during Christmas, less-so if it were Halloween.

But here it was, ferociously ready to make some move to get itself out of its current dilemma; two large humanoids blocking its way of escape unless it made a strong pounce.

The two Doctors, Donna and Rosita were all gobsmacked at the ugly sight of the creature, which stood up on all fours like an animal, even growling with dog-like sounds in order to frighten them a little.

"Oh, that's new!" The Other Doctor marvelled at the sight of the Cybershade, somewhat more curious about what it was than what it intended to do to them. He twirled his Screwdriver, ready to point it at the creature in an intimidating fashion.

"Oh, that's very different!" The Eleventh Doctor raised his hands in a defensive pose, before fishing his smoke black frockcoat for his Sonic Screwdriver.

The Cybershade hissed in return, thinking about perhaps trying to attack the two humanoids threatening it. But still, it knew it had to receive its orders. After all, its masters were keeping it on surveillance…

Now both pointing their Screwdrivers up heroically, ready to fend themselves off from the vile creature's monstrousness, they each shouted a signature catchphrase, which ironically clashed.

"ALLONS-Y!" Roared the Victorian-esque Doctor.

"GERONIMO!" Yelled the regular Doctor, as his eyes darted in confusion towards the not-so Sonic looking Screwdriver held by his presumed counterpart.

Just who was this other 'Doctor' and what was a cyborg creature like this doing in Victorian London? It seemed he and Donna had lots of mysteries to solve today…

_**DOCTOR WHO**_

Starring:

_**MATT SMITH**_

_**CATHERINE TATE**_

_**VELILE TSHABALALA**_

AND_** DAVID MORRISSEY**_

**THE SERIES 4 SPECIALS EPISODE 1: THE NEXT DOCTOR**

Coldness. Pure coldness. That was the only sensation that anyone who entered this dark and cold underground Victorian cellar that was filled to the brim with all sorts of cannibalised technology. Gone was the Victorian steampunk of the Industrial Revolution age and in came the Cybertechnology, of the great and powerful Cybermen, who stomped and stared as coldly as the temperature at a head height monitor.

The monitor was attached to several computers encompassing a few more monitors, each showing the input from each units' visual sensors. This allowed the Cybermen to track most of their individual units (and lackeys) as they performed their tasks across Victorian London.

Two Cybermen in particular were viewing events seen through the point of view of a lone Cybershade, that was quite unlike the Cybermats that had been created back in their own dimension of origin. Simply put, the technology required to create the Cybermats required resources that unfortunately didn't exist in Victorian times and so the Cybershade were created as a compromise based on available resources.

On the flip side, only so many Cybershades could be created and put into action, as humungous amounts of resources were required for the latest scheme of the dastardly Cybermen, who would await no further disturbances to the progress of their plot…

One Cyberman was the Leader variant; with a helmet head painted black and a surgically removed human brain visible above the forehead. It was by far the most merciless of all the Cybermen, being calculating and the most drone-like in its behaviour.

The other Cyberman stationed in the hideout with it was a regular soldier-type, which was just as emotionless but always took its orders from the Cyberleader or whatever its programming allowed of it, limiting its authority.

"_Report._" The Cyberleader ordered to its foot-soldier in an incredibly robotic tone.

"_Cybershade 16 has been discovered._" The other Cyberman complied automatically.

Processing the information and analysing the most suitable course of action, the Cyberleader droned in some orders. "_Order it to withdraw. This man is dangerous. This man is our enemy. This man... is the Doctor._"

Though the Eleventh Doctor was clearly visible on the monitor, the Cyberleader was pointing to the 'Other Doctor' on the screen…

Back in the city, the two Doctors stared down at the malevolent Cybershade, already pondering about its nature as Donna and Rosita stood back in case the creature decided to pounce.

"But what would a thing like this be doing here?" The current Doctor wondered aloud, knowing that the last time he'd encountered the parallel universe Cybermen (back in his previous incarnation), they had been sucked into the Void alongside numerous Daleks. How could they have ended up in Victorian London.

Apparently not understanding the full context, the Other Doctor excitedly revealed; "It's fallen into my trap! Oh, I've been hunting this beast for a good fortnight, now step back, sir and miss!"

But before either of them could take action, the creature leaped up like a wild animal, clinging itself onto the walls of the abandoned warehouse as if it were a spider. Growling and hissing down at them, it was clear that the Cybershade was in no mood to engage with the likes of four puny humanoids.

"That growling it's making…It sounds just like a dog or something!" Donna observed, even noticing how similar its movements were to such animals.

"Yeah, a dog or a cat. Must be a primitive conversion using an animal brain!" The Doctor agreed, quickly coming to the same conclusion.

"Talking's all very well - Rosita!" The other Doctor interrupted them, calling his 'companion' to toss the coil of rope to him.

"I'm ready!" She replied, tossing the rope, which was tied at one end in a lasso.

Readying the lasso in true heroic cowboy-esque style, the Other Doctor overconfidently threw it up, exclaiming; "Now watch, and learn!"

Just as if it were wild animal, the Cybershade swiped at the lasso with its claw, only for it to effortlessly wrap around both its left arm and right shoulder! Scowling, it attempted to make a swift escape that the Other Doctor was determined to prevent.

Wrapping the rope wrist-tight around his own arm, the Other Doctor enthusiastically announced; "Excellent! Now then, let's pull this timorous beastie down to earth."

The Cybershade had other ideas, however. Scuttling like a giant spider, it scaled up the warehouse wall and was so strong that it yanked the Other Doctor straight off the ground, leaving him clinging on for dear life!

"Ahhhhh!" The Other Doctor cried, clearly not expecting his attempt at capturing the Cybershade to go this madly out of control.

"Or perhaps not…" The current Doctor murmured awkwardly, watching as the Other Doctor appeared to abseil painfully up the warehouse wall, his feet scratching against the old bricks.

"I think I might be in a little bit of trouble..." The Victorian-dressed Doctor called somewhat helplessly from high above, as both Donna and Rosita seemed to sigh at the hairbrained execution of his plan.

"Nothing ever changes, I guess!" The Eleventh Doctor sighed, literally taking matters into his own hands by wrapping the trailing end of the rope around his wrist in an attempt to pull the Other Doctor down. "I've got you!"

"Doctor, wait!" Donna tried to stop him, but her Time Lord friend was far too absorbed in his heroics to listen.

Unfortunately, this was an equally faulty plan as a mere extra scuttle by the Cybershade yanked him up as well! Once it was slightly higher up, it calculated its next move; dispose of the two humanoids and return to base.

"Oh, you idiots!" Groaned Rosita, turning to Donna who was equally frustrated by the Doctors' rather hasty actions.

"Tell me about it!" Donna shook her head in disappointment, though she was at least a little more amused considering that this showed that her Doctor hadn't changed as much from his previous incarnation as she'd first believed.

Nevertheless, the moment that Rosita grabbed an axe that was lying within the pile of crates and junk, Donna followed the feisty companion of the Other Doctor into the warehouse. It was up to them to get their Doctors out of this total mess!

Meanwhile, the higher the two Doctors were yanked up the warehouse walls, the sooner the pair them tried make something out of their difficult situation. "Perhaps if you could pull..?" The Other Doctor gasped.

"I am pulling! In this position, I couldn't not pull, could I?" The Eleventh Doctor snapped irritably, a little upset when his black fedora fell to the ground.

"Then I'd suggest you let go, sir!" The Other Doctor answered, trying to sound confident and perfectly capable of dealing with the Cybershade himself.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight, Doctor!" The Eleventh Doctor boomed, still curious about the origins of this mysterious 'new Doctor'. "Don't you recognise me?"

"Should I? Have we met?" The adventurous swashbuckling Victorian-mannered Doctor frowned, having to talk louder as they began to get closer to top floor of the building. "It's hardly the right time to go through my social calendar - whoa!"

The Cybershade was in quite the hurry – practically pedalling through the warehouse on all fours at a speed two times faster than any Horse on Earth was ever able to run.

It had hopped up through an empty window and into a ginormous murky space filled with dirt and cobbled bits of crate. The two Doctors were soon dragged with it up the window sill until they were painfully thumped one at a time onto the floor.

Yelling and screaming once the Cybershade raced along the warehouse, they slid across in a sitting position just like snow sleds drawn by a husky, kicking up plenty of dust as they went along. The creature kept scuttling until it approached the opposite wall, aiming to pounce out of yet another empty window!

"I think it's going to jump!" Gulped the Eleventh Doctor.

"And we're going to fall!" Cried the Other Doctor, his hands really starting to hurt from holding the rope for so long.

But at the moment the Cybershade leaped out of the window, Rosita and Donna came rushing behind it holding the Axe. Together they frantically swung and chopped at the rope, splitting it instantaneously.

A split-second later, the two Doctors tumbled like rolling snowballs on a hill that had crashed into each other and finally slowed down. As they lay on the floor, still aching and groaning from the mad experience, they unravelled the rope from their arms and burst out into playful laughter!

"Ah-hahaha!" The pair giggled and coughed when they fell into a big hug of relief as they got to their feet.

Donna and Rosita on the other hand, stood in front of the madmen, completely befuddled and exasperated from having to bail them out.

* * *

Exiting the warehouse, Rosita burst down the stairs in fury while Donna handed the Eleventh Doctor his Fedora back. The two men were still laughing their heads off, partly because of the excitement they had just experienced, but for their companions this was no game.

"Well I'm glad you think it's so funny!" Rosita snarled sarcastically before evolving into a more patronising manner. "You're mad! Both of you! You could've got killed!"

"She's got a point, Doctor. Sometimes I think you enjoy this sort of thing too much!" Donna nodded in agreement.

The Other Doctor was more willing to look on the bright side of things, however. "But evidently, we were not killed!" I should introduce Rosita. My faithful companion. Always telling me off."

As Rosita folded her arms in an authoritative manner, the Eleventh Doctor beamed at her and jokingly answered; "Of course, since when don't they? A nice name, hello Rosita."

"And this…" The Doctor presented his own companion to his presumed future counterpart. "Is Donna Noble. Always taking care of me!"

"Delighted to receive your acquaintance Madam!" The Other Doctor greeted the Chiswick Temp with a friendly Victorian eloquence.

After greeting Donna with a far friendlier tone than she'd shown to either Doctor, Rosita grumbled away again; "Now I'll have to go and dismantle the traps! All of that for nothing!"

Storming away, she quickly reminded the Victorian Doctor; "And we've only got twenty minutes till the funeral, don't forget!"

Exhausted, the Other Doctor took a seat on a warehouse crate, pondering about how on earth they could capture another Cybershade successfully. But his apparent predecessor had his own fish to fry…

"Funeral..?" He asked politely, interested to involve himself and Donna further into whatever investigation his presumed counterpart was conducting.

Still recovering, the Other Doctor explained; "Long story. Not my own, not yet. Oh dear." He groaned. "Not as young as I was."

Taking this opportunity to press in on the matter of his identity, the Eleventh Doctor casually stated; "Indeed. You're not as young as when you were me!"

Once again confused by the tense in which this stranger was referring to him with, the adventurer replied; "When I was who?"

"Are you sure you don't recognise me Doctor?" The Doctor made doubly-sure.

The Victorian Doctor shook his head, not pinpointing a single facial feature that corresponded to his visual memory. "Not at all."

After briefly looking to Donna to convey his sense of suspicion and curiousity, the Eleventh Doctor decided to examine the exact extent to which this man seemed convincing as his future counterpart. "But you're the Doctor! The latest one! Or at least, a future Doctor anyway! Oh dear, please don't tell me how I got that way. I'd rather not have just tripped over a brick – that would be really embarrassing… Then again, I suppose it's painless. There are worse ways to pop off. Depends on the brick."

Bewildered as he tidied his brown frockcoat, the only thing the Other Doctor could say was; "You're gabbling, sir. And might I ask, who are you, exactly?"

The Time Lord seemed offended at first. "Gabbling? No, but I-" He paused, changing his approach so that he could still hold all the winning cards in seeding information out of this mysterious next Doctor. "I'm just... Smith! John Smith. But I've heard all about you, Doctor. If you don't mind me saying, you're a bit of a legend around these parts."

"Uh, yeah!" Donna added helpfully. "And that's why we came looking for you, so we could see you in action!"

"Thank you madam." The Other Doctor replied with curtesy. "Well, modesty forbids me to agree with you, sir. But yes! Yes I am."

Determined to get through to him, the Doctor both figuratively and literally attempted to fill in some gaps; A legend with... certain memories missing. Is that correct?"

The Other Doctor was stunned – just who was this man really? "How'd you know that?"

Clasping his hands together, the Eleventh Doctor grimly revealed his current hypothesis; "You've forgotten me."

As the atmosphere around the warehouse became quieter and more intimate, the Other Doctor lifted himself off the crate and admitted the things that were troubling him; "Great swathes of my life have been stolen away. When I turn my mind to the past... there's nothing."

"Nothing?" Donna gasped, judging from her recent experience that even her Doctor hadn't suffered from memory loss like this, at least as far as she knew. "But surely there's some things you can remember?"

"Very little I'm afraid, Madam." The Other Doctor seemed stressed and weary all of a sudden. "My mind only goes back since the Cybermen. Masters of that hellish wall-scuttler, and old enemies of mine, now at work in London town. You won't believe it, Mr Smith, but they are creatures from another world."

"I see!" The Eleventh Doctor pretended to sound surprised, though the fact that his presumed counterpart had seen or at least knew of the Cybermen confirmed he had great knowledge and that the events at Canary Wharf had not completely wiped out the parallel world Cybermen. "That's incredible!"

"It's said they fell on to London. Out of the sky." The Other Doctor then stared into an empty metal canister. "In a blaze of light. They... found me."

From the painful expressions on his face, Donna and the Doctor could easily tell he was facing vivid flashbacks. And in these flashbacks were none other than the outstretched metal hands of three Cybermen, advancing on him like emotionless demons while terrible screams echoed in the distance. Everything was so hard to make out, yet so easy to recall the general feelings within…

"Something was taken. And something was lost." The Victorian adventurer paused, struggling to grasp exactly what he was remembering. Turning to the only man who could apparently help him, he asked; "What was I like, in the past?"

Before Donna could figure out how to explain considering that the Doctor may very well be talking to himself, her Time Lord friend took a cautious approach. "Probably best I don't say. I'm sorry, that's the trouble with memory loss. One wrong word, and…"

He trailed off, so the Other Doctor questioned him again; "It's strange, though. I talk of Cybermen. From the stars. And you don't blink, Mr Smith."

While he had the urge to remind him of the time he had encountered the Weeping Angels in 2008, the Doctor stopped himself and gave a far vaguer answer; "Oh I've seen many strange things in my lifetime Doctor, but nothing stranger than what I've seen today."

"You're a very odd man." The Victorian Doctor piped up, noticing just how confusing it was that this 'John Smith' had so many similarities to him.

His energy, his intelligence, and even his occasional pragmatism and sense of maturity all reminded himself of what he was. Or at least, what he remembered of himself…

"Well, I still am." The Time Lord admitted, with Donna giving him a smug look. "Something's wrong here, d'you mind if I just..?"

Before he could take out the stethoscope from his frockcoat (commonly used by the Tenth Doctor), his acquaintance suddenly leapt to his feet, realising he had been a little absent-minded. "The funeral! The funeral at two o'clock! It's been a pleasure, Mr Smith, don't breathe a word of it!"

"Hey, can't we come with you?" Donna suggested, just as determined to find out who this Other Doctor was.

"It's far too dangerous! Rest assured, I'll keep this city safe!" The Victorian Doctor started to run off, knowing that Rosita would be fuming if he were late. Turning back, he gave one last greeting to the dark-dressed Doctor; "Oh! And merry Christmas, Mr Smith!"

"Merry Christmas, Doctor." The current Doctor returned, tipping his fedora at the man.

Once the Other Doctor had hurried off, Donna gave a big grin to her Doctor, indicating exactly what feeling was driving through her at the moment. "We're not gonna let this slide, are we?"

"Ha! As if I'd ever dream of it Miss Noble, come on!" The Eleventh Doctor grinned back, grabbing her hand before they sauntered off after the 'Next Doctor'…

* * *

Events were now really moving back in the Cyber HQ, as a line of seven Cybermen gathered in place like a military force at a training camp; drone-like and only in motion if they had orders with an objective to pursue.

Their Cyberleader marched past them, approaching a woman in her mid-30s dressed in a bright red workhouse's matron's uniform. She seemed cool and calm, almost robotic at first. But she had free will all right, just a rather ruthless nature at first glance. She showed absolutely no fear in the face of any Cybermen, and there were little people who could say that.

What made this even more surprising was that she was actually working with the Cybermen as an ally. She was doing it for her own great ambitions of course, but despite her associates' soulless approach to their objectives, their intentions still crossed for the most part.

"_The attack is scheduled for 1400 hours. Plans for the Ascension demand a successful intervention. Is everything in position?_" The Cyberleader demanded.

"That's rather dependent on you. All I can promise is to do my best" The woman answered with a silky smooth tone. She was enjoying the vile practices that the Cybermen were allowing her to conduct.

"_Define the parameters of 'best.'_" The Cyberleader retorted in a drone-like manner. Unlike the human it had once been, it ran on a far more logic-based thinking.

"As you would say... I will operate at maximum efficiency." The woman sneered, almost admiring the lack of emotion presented by her associates. It made them much easier to reason with, or so she believed. "And you'll keep your part of the bargain?"

"_You will be heralded, in the new age. At the Court of the CyberKing._" The Cyberleader boomed.

In response to the Cyberleader's mention of the 'CyberKing', all seven Cybermen in the room clamped their fists to their chest plates like a salute to a royal monarch, exclaiming; "_The CyberKing will rise._"

Facing them with her most despicable smile yet, the woman spoke firmly; "The CyberKing will rise, indeed. How like a man. Now if you'll excuse me… I have a funeral to attend."


	2. A Cyber-Murder Mystery

_**Regeneration of Fate - The Next Doctor - Chapter 2 - A Cyber-Murder Mystery**_

As if things never changed in society, a Victorian funeral was always rather moody. In this elegant part of London with tons of workhouses, the snow had settled whilst the hearse, the horses and the mourners made their solemn march across to the nearest graveyard.

It was Victorian grief at its finest, displayed all in black with tears and a posh carriage to haul the coffin of the deceased to its final resting place. Most onlookers were going about their Christmas business, too indulged in their own matters to show any sign of sympathy to the mourners.

But four individuals hid out of plain sight, observing the funeral procession analytically like spies on a mission. Both pairs were waiting, yet only two of them had the clearest objective; to sneak into the home of the poor dead man and investigate.

The Other Doctor, still looking swashbuckling as ever in his Victorian Frockcoat, peered calmly over the metal fence. His companion Rosita eyed the procession similarly with many thoughts channelling into her brain. Just why had this unfortunate individual been killed? What purpose did it serve to the dastardly Cybermen?

"The late Reverend Fairchild. Leaving his place of residence for the last time, God rest his soul." The Victorian Doctor murmured quietly, trying not to draw attention to himself.

Unbeknownst to either of them, the two spying individuals were being spied on by the other duo they had encountered on this strange day; the Eleventh Doctor and Donna Noble! They kept in the shadows, observing the amusing banter between the possible Twelfth, Thirteenth, Fourteenth… _Whatever…_Next Doctor and his non-modern day companion.

"Now! With the house empty, I'll effect an entrance at the rear, while you go back to the Tardis. This is hardly work for a woman." The Other Doctor commandeered the operation, cautious of potential dangers that could emerge should he enter the house. If whatever had killed him was still inside the house, he would not want Rosita to be caught off guard.

"Oh don't mind me saving your life, that's work for a woman, isn't it?" Rosita snapped, with hints of a feminist attitude.

In an almost patronising manner, the Other Doctor replied; "The Doctor's companion does what the Doctor says, now off you."

From behind another metal fence, Donna whispered to her Doctor very firmly; "I hope you're never going to be that blunt, right?"

"Oh….." The current Doctor shook his head very quickly. "I would never dream of it!"

Meanwhile, as Rosita stomped away from the funeral procession in a huff, the Other Doctor quietly manoeuvred across the road once the last of the mourners had passed. One other thing he hadn't noticed, aside from the Doctor and Donna tailing out of hiding to follow him, was another Cybershade. It had been lurking about and reporting intruders back to its masters…

Like a thief, the Victorian adventurer kneeled down and picked at the door's lock with his not so Sonic Screwdriver, only for it open up without warning!

Raising the screwdriver slightly in case in defence, he quickly lowered it when he was surprised to see 'John Smith' and Miss Donna Noble were already inside.

"Ah, hello there!" The Eleventh Doctor twiddled his fingers in a very odd sort of greeting.

"But... how did you get in?" Stammered the Other Doctor, who could've sworn this door was the easiest way in.

"Well…The front door of course! I know a thing or two about doors…" The scruffy-haired Doctor answered vaguely.

As the Victorian adventurer peered around to check that nobody had spotted them, Donna drew attention to the same thing her Doctor had noticed; "Hang on, erm…'Doctor', is that your Sonic Screwdriver?"

Presenting what was merely a typical 1850's workman's tool, the Other Doctor said; "Why yes Madam, I'd be lost without it."

The Eleventh Doctor frowned; "Curious…Isn't it just a Screwdriver? What makes it sonic?"

Tapping the tool on the wall as a rather unimpressive demonstration, the Victorian Doctor explained; "Well, it makes a noise. That's sonic, isn't it? Now since we're acting like common burglars, I suggest we three get out of plain view!"

The interior of the townhouse was fairly spooky, littered with the aura of a now-deceased elderly man and his many books. The Other Doctor frantically got to work, creeping about to investigate everything he could spot that seemed like it was out of place or would present clues.

He rummaged through drawers, picked up books to see if anything interesting was slotted inside and examining what was lying under abandoned picture frames. His two associates, however, were purely fixated on uncovering the mystery surrounding _**him**_. Of course, that wasn't to say they weren't curious about what he was hoping to discover in this house.

"What are you actually searching for in here?" Donna asked politely.

"Signs of alien infiltration." Explained the Other Doctor, busy checking the bookshelf in the dusty austere room they'd just entered. "I'm certain there's something here that could prove it…"

"And your investigation, what's it all about?" The Eleventh Doctor questioned his presumed counterpart.

"It started with a murder." Said the Other Doctor, not taking his eyes off any areas where potential clues could lie.

"I can already tell this isn't going to be pleasant…" Murmured the Eleventh Doctor, placing his hands in frockcoat pockets. "Go on."

The Other Doctor elaborated; "Mr Jackson Lake. A teacher of Mathematics, from Sussex. He came to London three weeks ago and died a terrible death."

"Cybermen?" Donna guessed helpfully. She had heard the Doctor mention them before back in his previous incarnation, but not once had they ever encountered one together.

"Hard to say, his body was never found. But then it started. More secret murders. Then abductions. Children, stolen away in silence." Muttered the Other Doctor, with a hint of strain and slight confusion in his voice. It was as if he talking about something he knew more about than he believed…

"So who lived here then?" The Doctor replied.

"The latest murder. The Reverend Aubrey Fairchild. Found with burns to his forehead, like some advanced form of electrocution."

The current Doctor's eyebrows raised; that definitely sounded like Cybermen!

"So this Jackson Lake, was he important for some reason?" Donna pressed on, causing the Other Doctor to pause in slight irritation at being interrupted in his search for evidence.

He frowned; "You two ask a lot of questions."

"Well then…" The Eleventh Doctor rubbed his chin awkwardly as he removed his hat to think. "You can consider us…"

His eyes darted over to Donna's direction, prompting a quick reaction from the Chiswick girl to finish her friend's statement. "….Your companions! I mean, surely Rosita insists on helping on you all the time."

The Other Doctor chuckled briefly before resuming his recap; "Quite right Madam, she does indeed. Alright then - The Reverend was a pillar of the community. A member of many Parish Boards. A keen advocate of children's charity."

"Children seems to be the link here…" Observed the Eleventh Doctor, already starting to join some of the dots together in the mystery.

"Oh, he was famously good to them." The Other Doctor expanded on _'John Smith's' _comment. "He'd discipline them, birch them, send them to the Workhouse."

Before Donna could reply with something akin to disbelief and disgust at what she considered outdated Victorian values, the Eleventh Doctor raised his hand and said; "Erm yes. Well, a kind gentleman I'm sure, but why would the Cybermen kill him? And what does he have to do with the first man murdered, Mr Jackson Lake..?"

The Other Doctor had frozen still; disturbed and apparently unsure of himself for a moment, he admitted; "It's funny, I seem to be telling you everything. As though you engender some sort of... trust. And…I don't even recognise your face and yet you still seem familiar."

The Eleventh Doctor and Donna exchanged looks, realising they'd uncovered one vital clue towards the identity of this man. But quickly another clue presented itself almost naturally to the Time Lord's eyes; a fob watch. Could this Victorian adventurer be his future incarnation, just turned into a human via the chameleon arch?

No, something just didn't seem right about that idea. Yes, a Time Lord's timestream could work in strange ways. But a meeting between two incarnations where one of them has only just recently regenerated seemed too fanciful to be a simple coincidence.

Only one way to find out, decided the Doctor. Pointing out the fob watch and asking for permission to open it, the Time Lord held the golden timepiece and quietly explained; "Legend has it that the memories of a Time Lord can be contained. Perhaps, if it's opened…"

He clicked the fob watch open and tipped it up. Nothing. Just a couple of cogs sprung out and onto the floor – a false alarm to say the least.

Both men were disappointed; "Ah."

"It's more for decoration." Admitted the Other Doctor, closing the fob watch.

Donna shook her head with a slight sigh; "Well boys, if we're here to do a job, we might as well focus on alien infiltration?"

"My thoughts exactly!"

"I-erm-Absolutely!"

Returning to rummaging through a desk, the Other Doctor gave instructions to his two 'companions'. "Just look for anything different, possibly metal, anything that doesn't seem to belong, perhaps a mechanical device that would fit no earthly engine, it could even seem to be organic, though unlike any organism of the natural world..."

Knowing very well that her Doctor could sort this out much quicker, Donna nudged him and whispered something into his ear. Perking up, the Time Lord obliged with a grin as he sneakily pulled out his Screwdriver and scanned across.

Detecting that something was inside the chest, he immediately pocketed the device and rushed over with Donna. Together they opened it, just as the Other Doctor turned around in confusion.

"Wait, what's that noise?" He put his hand to his ear to listen carefully.

"Nevermind that, look at this…Erm, Doctor!" Snapped the Eleventh Doctor, pulling out two metal objects. "Presto! Different and metal indeed. Now, let's see how they work…"

Switching the device on, the three were presented with a series of circular projections on a nearby mirror. It was an ever-changing display of writing, charts, maps going so endlessly fast that nobody could read them.

"Ah, of course – compressed information! I remember now, this is an info-stamp!" Mouthed the Doctor, as his presumed counterpart stared up at the strange flickering images.

Donna understood at once. "You mean, it's like a mini-data bank? Something the Cybermen are using to store information?"

"Yeah. Apparently more than those tin-heads can store – I reckon this one's got the history of London, 1066 to the present day. But why an info-stamp? Surely they could-" He fiddled with his hat for a few seconds before hurriedly flinging it back on when he had an epiphany. "No, hold on. They're in the nineteenth century, so they wouldn't have enough power. So these little gizmos would-"

While the Time Lord had been rattling on at break-neck speed, Donna had noticed that the Other Doctor was lowering himself down, clutching his info-stamp in an almost pained-like manner.

"Are you alright?" She bent down, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"I-I'm fine Madam." Stuttered the Victorian adventurer, sounding so vulnerable again. "Thank you for asking."

Donna was not convinced – her first Doctor had shown somewhat similar traits whenever he was concerned. "No come on, I can tell you're not, Doctor. Well, alright as in not-so-okay-at-all."

Blinking in confusion at the familiarity of the way Donna was treating him, he admitted; "I've seen one of these before..."

Just as the projections faded out, the Eleventh Doctor's focus suddenly switched back to his presumed counterpart. Donna gave him a slight frown, indicating a need for him to demonstrate more empathy. While his predecessor could be cold at times, most of the time he never shied away from taking into account others' concerns. This incarnation so far seemed to occasionally get far too wrapped up in the mysteries surrounding him, so it was her ambition to make sure he kept on track.

The Other Doctor breathed hard, his hands almost trembling as he held the info-stamp and sparked back into flashbacks of frightening proportions. Again he witnessed Cybermen marching terrifyingly into his midst, but this time he could picture himself backing away in terror, holding a familiar metal object…

"I was holding... this device... It was the night I lost my mind. The night I..." He trailed off slightly. "…regenerated."

That sealed the deal for the Doctor. This truly was far too coincidental in his mind; he had regenerated recently, and he had been at the centre of a biological meta-crisis. As friendly and as charming as this supposed 'next Doctor' seemed, the evidence so far had proved the current Doctor's initial suspicions correct.

"Regenerated…Impossible…" The current Doctor muttered under his breath, but the Other Doctor didn't seem to hear him.

"...the Cybermen. They made me change. My face. My mind. My whole self..." He continued on, now lifting his head up in fear as he stared dead into the Eleventh Doctor's eyes. "And there was this other man…All spiky-haired…You remind me of him. _Who are you?_"

"We're here to help, Doctor. Trust me." The Eleventh Doctor grinned. Despite his scepticism at this man truly being the Doctor, he nevertheless saw how disturbed and perhaps traumatised he was and was willing to offer his services.

"I…Alright John…I will – I think I'll need all the help I can get." The Other Doctor came close to tears, Donna only just succeeding in comforting him while she sat beside.

Leaping up and dashing with energy within the room, the Time Lord searched through doors with a nasty thought in mind. "Still! Plenty of time on our hands to worry about that later. I hope I'm wrong, but if this room's got Infostamps, then maybe, just maybe, it's got something that needs infostamping..."

Flinging open an interior door, he was 'greeted' by exactly with what he didn't want to find; a hidden Cyberman!

"Out, out!" He yelled at once to his companion and the Other Doctor, making sure to slam the door shut before the Cyberman could make its move.

Whilst Donna had got to her feet, the Other Doctor didn't move a muscle. SLAM! The Cyberman thrashed the door down as if it were nothing, marching forwards with its rock-hard mechanical arms and a spectral gaze from its metal face.

"_Delete!"_ It droned, about to go on the offensive.

Though he was frozen in fear from resurfacing memories, the Other Doctor was hurriedly yanked up by Donna and the Eleventh Doctor to snap him out of his state and start their escape.

Retreating into the hall, the three adventurers were shocked to see a second Cyberman stomping into their midst. At that very moment, the first Cyberman advanced dramatically from the drawing room, forcing everyone to run towards some nearby stairs.

"Now our predicament couldn't be worse!" Mumbled the dark-coated Time Lord, scratching his head as he brainstormed the remainder of his stratagem.

"Don't just stand there Spaceman, grab something and hold em off!" Donna suggested with a great sense of urgency.

Immediately obliging to his companion's advice, the Doctor reached for a cutlass hanging on the wall and then slashed hard at the nearest Cyberman's arm. It reacted with immense force, parrying the Time Lord's swing every step it marched up the stairs.

This was a duel that was clearly going nowhere, but the Doctor's instincts told him to try and reason with the Cybermen; "Listen up tin-soldier! Whatever you're doing, stuck in 1851, I'm the only one, really, the only one who can help you-"

The soulless cyborgs ignored his attempts at diplomacy, with the first one launching into more karate-chops in an attempt to dispose of the Doctor quickly and effortlessly. This humanoid was insignificant as far as their motivational circuits were concerned; their real concern was the Victorian swashbuckler of a man behind him whom they were 100% convinced was their nemesis.

In a crushing steel swing, the first Cyberman remorselessly knocked the cutlass away and almost out of the Doctor's hand as it advanced even closer. Though he was normally an ace at sword-fighting, his new body was out of practice and the odds were far more against him here with a tougher opponent than the likes of a formidable but relatively fair challenge of the Sycorax Leader.

"Check your memory banks, it's not him you want, it's me!" Protested the Time Lord, desperately trying to protect both Donna and The Other Doctor. If he was to be defeated then he was determined to go down fighting.

"My name is the Doctor! Leave this man alone. I'm telling you, the Doctor is me!" He panted, running out of breath as they all reached the landing. He would not be able to keep up this much strength for much longer.

Since the Other Doctor seemed too frightened out of his wits and pre-occupied by the info-stamp he still grasped onto firmly, Donna took it upon herself to assist her friend. She suddenly rushed forwards and then bravely crashed a chair over the Cyberman's head, causing it to flinch.

"Take that, tin-head!" She yelled, impressed at her handiwork.

Before she could go on the offensive again, the protective as ever Time Lord dragged her back by the arm and used this opportunity to kick the Cyberman backwards by the chest. It stumbled slightly and almost fell onto a previous step with only its associate to catch it.

Regaining its footing, it retaliated more berserk than before and clashed its arm like a rapier onto the Doctor's cutlass, freezing them into a brief deadlock.

"_Delete. The humanoids and the Doctor will be deleted_." The metallic menace thrashed at its opponent again, now definitely emerging as the victor when the Doctor helplessly landed on his back.

Horrified and befuddled by the words that 'John Smith' had uttered in front of the monstrosities that he thought were _**his**_ enemies, the Other Doctor backed into a corner and looked again at the info-stamp.

With an unexpected flash of his burdened mind, he was plopped back into the middle of a terrifying skirmish, with more of the same Cybermen approaching like rapid-fire.

For some reason there were also flashes of soaring light exploding on the wall behind him, just as he reaching down for an info-stamp lying on the floor as his only item of defence. And then he had pressed the round button…

As if he were reliving those same moments in the present, his brain automatically directed him like a practiced film-star to perform the same piece of improvisation. Like magic the info-stamp beamed out a ray of information encased in a light-blue cylinder of energy right onto the head-piece of the first Cyberman. It reacted with a screech of electronic pain, and the light re-bounded on its colleague behind it, mirroring the same agonising gurgle of digitised screaming.

Though they both flinched, Donna soon raced to help the Eleventh Doctor up as they gaped in amazement at the writhing and twisting cyborgs collapsing to their knees. Now their whole cold-metal faces looked as if they were being electrocuted!

Inside the Cybermen's heads, there was for the first time in an extremely long 'life-cycle', an actual emotion of some manner. No, it wasn't regret, nor anger at their defeat, nor shock at the ease with which they had been overwhelmed, but rather a sense of claustrophobia that emanated pain. The information was too much, too big, and too distracting from their current objective to comprehend all at once. Naturally, the only solution their confused minds had to end it all was to self-destruct…

KKZZT! One last spark of the info-stamp's data energy finally fluttered in preparation for the violent detonation that followed. Wires snapped and sizzled, chunks of small metal cracked and burned whilst the only remnants of the human that had once been within disintegrated or scattered apart into bits of tiny bone particles.

The after-images of the cyber-converted people who had originated from another dimension entirely had finally worn themselves out.

Slumping themselves against the wall and taking in hard breaths, the trio gave each other the sort of looks of satisfaction only ever possible in the aftermaths of near-death situations.

Tightening his black fedora back onto his scruffy-haired head, the Eleventh Doctor marvelled at his presumed counterpart's ingenuity; "Infostamp. With a cyclo-Steinham core - you ripped open the core, broke the safety…Kazoom! Truly Doctor, only you could think of that!"

"He reads a lot of science-fiction." Donna patted the Other Doctor on the shoulder as she tried to fill in the discrepancy of how a supposed Victorian citizen like 'John Smith' knew of such futuristic machines.

Instead of elaborating on this with reference to such relevant Victorian science-fiction authors as Edgar Allan Poe or Jules Verne, the Eleventh Doctor now watched with wonder as the Other Doctor stared back at the broken info-stamp.

He sounded distressed; "I did that... The last time..."

Now realising this was the perfect opportunity to try again, he retrieved his predecessor's stethoscope from his dark frock-coat and assured the Victorian adventurer; "Come here, you'll be all right, let me just check..."

Since he was often guilty of jumping to conclusions in certain situations, the Doctor was ambitious enough to gather more evidence when necessary to satisfy his curiousity, even when the truth seemed pretty clear. So he carefully checked for his presumed counterpart's hearts on both sides.

His face slightly colder and more suspicious of 'John Smith', the Other Doctor demanded; "But you told them you were the Doctor, why did you do that?"

"Well…Just to divert their attention – I was protecting you!" He lied in a humble manner.

The Other Doctor's eyes now darted on Donna for a moment; "And you Madam, you defended me alongside him. It's as if you've done this before. You two seem so inseparable…"

The Eleventh Doctor and Donna glanced at each other with mischievous grins; that was no doubt a long-lasting truth.

His confusion and terror building up and up like a tree growing at thirty times its natural speed, the Victorian adventurer murmured solemnly; You're both taking away the only thing I've got. Just like they did. They stole something... something so precious."

He started to cry with great helplessness. "But I can't remember. What happened to me? What did they do?"

"Doctor." The scruffy-haired Time Lord together with Donna placed his hand on the Victorian adventurer's hand. "We'll all help you find out, I assure you."

"Yeah. We'll be with you every step of the way." Donna beamed at the Victorian Doctor, displaying a familiar sympathy that only ever Rosita had shown to him before.

Now he felt slightly more at ease. Troubled, yes. But more rip-roaring to go on with his mission as his whole life and purpose depended on it. Whoever these two strangers were, they were not against him or trying to leave him as a meaningless husk.

"I think it's time we made a swift departure." Suggested the Time Lord as he pocketed the stethoscope, not quite feeling safe anymore as an uneasy sense enveloped in his midst. "I don't think we're al-"

Donna was the first to react; she gasped in horror and instantly bent down to pull the two Doctors to the floor. The impact of a flashing sizzle of destruction burst into the nearby wall a small scurry of flames that nearly scorched a portrait!

The noise of the blast had a significant pounding sensation to it, and the attacker who had unleashed it clearly had pretty decent aim. Had it not been for Donna's watchful eyes, the trio might've easily met a nasty demise face-first.

"Inseparable indeed, Doctor. Thank you Donna!" The Eleventh Doctor leaped his feet as he tightened his grip on his friends' arms and fled down the stairs, making sure not to trip over the destroyed Cybermen.

Re-adjusting the aim of its Cyber-weapon, the attacker grunted a synthesised tone of dissatisfaction at its failure to destroy its opponents quickly. It intended to dash after them but found itself being so near but so far once it had got down the stairs.

The humanoids' retreat had been swift and precise enough to evade further blasts from the Cyber-weapon. Realising it had failed in its task, the attacker returned to its previous objective and took a different route out of the house.

Stealth was required for the time being, as the rise of the Cyber-King as scheduled by the Cyber-Leader was still far away. But at least a short offensive had been planned for in a few short half-hours. It was time the attacker attended a funeral…

* * *

"Doctor! I thought you were dead!"

A small run-down street in Victorian London walled by Victorian factories was certainly not the most welcoming of places to have a reunion. The air was smelly, the condition of the street quite decrepit and the settled snow in the area was quite wet and perhaps a little slippery.

So it was a bit of surprise how Rosita, running in her Victorian gown, did not slip as she trundled up to her Doctor and launched into a humungous hug of hugs.

"Now then, Rosita. A little decorum." Panted the Other Doctor, still a little overwhelmed.

"You've been gone for so long!" She turned to the Eleventh Doctor, who still felt very proud of his presumed counterpart for having such good company. "He's always doing this! Leaving me behind! Going frantic!"

"My Doct…John's exactly the same!" Donna acknowledged, folding her arms as she eyed her Doctor. Or at least his predecessor had been like that, and so far his current incarnation hadn't strayed too far from similar vibes.

"Donna, wasn't it?"

The Chiswick girl nodded, shaking hands with Rosita again.

"You've probably been watching over these two idiots I expect, having their backs when things get rough."

"Ha. What else can I do? That's our job!" Donna agreed solidly.

A little embarrassed at the girls' admittedly truthful comments, the Other Doctor changed the subject; "But what about the Tardis?"

"Oh, she's ready, come on!"

Rubbing his hands with great anticipation, the Eleventh Doctor looked at Donna and remarked quietly; "This ought to be very interesting…"

The trio were led into a once abandoned brick-building. It was filled with barrels, crates and a few layers of junk added on top. It was like a ramshackle home tossed together other several weeks by a beggar or thief who'd pickpocketed or swiped away anything of value for living. A series of luggage and slightly used furniture lay about, including a wooden bed and a table laid out for typical Victorian tea. Yes, it was quite a home Rosita and the Other Doctor had made. Though you wouldn't think it at first, it was surprisingly comfortable.

The Other Doctor manoeuvred over to a sink, splashing water on his face before scrubbing it with a very dry but cold towel. "You were right though, Rosita. The Reverend Fairchild's death was the work of the Cybermen!"

"Is this really where you live?" Asked Donna, a little surprised.

"A temporary base, till we rout the enemy. The Tardis is magnificent, but it's hardly a home." Explained the Other Doctor, exhibiting the idea that their investigations and battles against the Cybermen were like a crusade dominated by a long and tiring siege.

"_Hardly home?_" Repeated Donna, slightly taken aback. She'd never though she'd hear any Doctor, even someone claiming to hold that title, say that the TARDIS was not homely in the slightest. What about all the multiple rooms and corridors? Even the Console Room was quite comfortable and full of fun little gizmos to take everyone's spare time.

The Doctor pressed on this matter briefly; "So, where is this magnificent TARDIS? I've only heard a little about it from all the hub-bub that goes around in the city."

"Hub-bub?" Frowned Rosita.

"Erm…Gossip, talk, chatter. Think of a game of Chinese Whispers!" Elaborated the Doctor.

"Interesting…" The Other Doctor cleared his throat. "The TARDIS is in the yard! But the chill of Christmas demands a better coat..."

He began busying himself by ransacking piles of clothes within the luggage, hoping to discard his current frockcoat for a far warmer one. And quite right too – after the scuffle with the Cybermen his brown frockcoat seemed a little worn and time.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but this isn't your luggage, is it?" The Eleventh Doctor questioned him.

"Ooh no." The Other Doctor shook his head. "It's evidence! The property of Jackson Lake, the first man to be murdered."

As Donna whispered her thoughts into the Eleventh Doctor's ear, prompting a silent nod of agreement from him, the Other Doctor complimented his earlier bravery to Rosita; "Oh, but my new friend is a fighter, Rosita, much like myself! He faced the Cybermen with a cutlass! I'm not ashamed to say, he was braver than I, he was quite brilliant."

"Oi!" Donna quickly reminded him. "Don't forget about me – if I hadn't stepped in that Cyberman would've got to him long before you used that info-thingy!"

"Oh yes of course! I am, and I'm sure Mr Smith is, eternally grateful for your efforts, Madam Noble." The Other Doctor hurriedly corrected himself. "And you hold quite an sense of authority over him – Rosita seems very impressed."

Just as the Other Doctor finally found a new coat and was putting his old one away, the Eleventh Doctor sneakily unlocked another trunk with his Sonic Screwdriver.

"It's that wretched sound again, listen!" The Victorian Adventurer paused, not noticing Donna signalling for Rosita to keep quiet about it whilst the Eleventh Doctor searched for clues.

"Noise? What noise?" Donna humorously pretended not to hear the buzz of the screwdriver. "Maybe you're just thinking about that strange blast that nearly hit us back there, Doctor."

The Other Doctor raised his eyebrows, not totally convinced by her 'hypothesis'. "Maybe."

The Eleventh Doctor was going through yet another pile of clothes in a different trunk, confused at why they seemed to be different sizes to those being handled by his Victorian counterpart.

"That's another man's property." The Victorian companion folded her arms, not wanting the valuable evidence to be tarnished or disrespected.

"True. But a dead man's property to be fair." Admitted the Eleventh Doctor, rummaging through a trunk. "So, how did you two meet exactly?"

Sincerely and truthfully, Rosita looked back and forth between her Doctor and 'John Smith' as she told her story, sensing how weary and confused the former was.

"He saved my life. Late one night, by the Osterman's Wharf, this creature came out of the shadows. A man made of metal. I thought I was going to die. And then... There he was. The Doctor."

Her tone and voice became softer, quieter. She felt sorry for her Doctor, despite all the frustrations and flaws he had. "Can you help him, sir? He has such terrible dreams. Wakes at night. In such a state of terror."

From all this, Donna instantly knew how Rosita felt. Throughout her first adventure with the new incarnation of her Doctor, she couldn't help but notice a sense of loss within his behaviour. The death of his predecessor had not just been shock to his companions but the Time Lord himself; it had affected his personality and behaviour in more ways than just the regeneration's traditional changes.

Especially during the moment he was leaving Rose and his Meta-Crisis counterpart behind, it never seemed as if the Doctor felt like he was letting go of a huge burden. Instead, the situation appeared to place a new one on his shoulders.

Ever since that moment he'd seemed to revel in Donna's place on the TARDIS more than ever, but had also become slightly resigned and a little scatter-brained. Had his near-genocide of the New Dalek Empire done more to affect him than usual? Or was there something bigger on his mind? Either way, the way in which the Other Doctor was suffering from his memory loss and 'bad dreams' was almost a mirror image of how her Doctor was theoretically feeling internally.

As if to prove this was the case, the two Doctors came into a slight exchange.

"Come now, Rosita, is it any wonder? With all the things a Time Lord has seen. Everything he's lost. He must surely have bad dreams." The Other Doctor smiled weakly.

"Indeed Doctor…" The current Time Lord agreed, before fishing something interesting out of a jacket. "Bingo! This presents a new picture – our late friend Mr Jackson Lake was carrying an info-stamp!"

The Victorian Doctor was the most confused. "But how? Is that significant..?"

"Doctor. The answer to all this is in your Tardis. Can I see it?"

"Mr Smith. It would be my honour!" Beamed the Other Doctor, motioning for Rosita to come along.

As they departed the temporary hideout, Donna whispered to the Doctor; "What about that laser blast in the Reverend's house? I mean, those other Cybermen weren't shooting at us, and that one could've just crept up and killed us like they killed Fairchild."

"A fair point Donna." The Eleventh Doctor bemused, feeling that there was something else at play. Something far more dangerous than just the Cybermen and Cybershades they'd seen so far. "But one mystery at a time, eh?"

Making sure to keep up with the 'Other TARDIS Crew', they followed them out of the hideout, and towards an enclosed Factory Yard…


	3. Identity Shock and Silver-Shock!

_**Regeneration of Fate - **__**The Next Doctor -**__** Chapter 3: ****Identity ****Shock and Silver-Shock!**_

Far out of the depths of London town, lies a snow-ridden graveyard this winter, where sorrow and regret are the themes of the day. Confusion too, as the death of the poor soul whose prayers are being gifted to here are as a big a mystery as what the burn-marks on his body are.

The funeral procession had started with a great march across the city all in black and was finally ending as the coffin was ceremoniously lowered into the grave, ready to be covered up within a few hours. Only a murky gravestone would remain to mark the existence of a life lost so mysteriously and spookily.

Would city folk in pubs and restaurants talk of the Reverend Fairchild's death in the future? Would he even be remembered? If he was, perhaps a novelist would write an exciting thriller based on the circumstances of his death. A murder mystery would sell quite easily if hysteria spread among the population of Victorian London. Of course, the 1800s were yet to bring their greatest mysteries to people's attention, but this little event still had some potential for one writer to fill in the blanks for a curious audience.

But none of these thoughts dared enter the mind of the mourners too much; it would be extremely disrespectful to the soul they were putting to rest. And so the Vicar, all robed in what could only be identified as garments supplied by the Protestant Church of England, calmly but sincerely read out the eulogy amongst the chilling mists that created some unease.

"Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy, to take unto Himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ; who shall change our vile body, that it may be like unto his glorious body, according to the mighty working..."

He faltered for a moment, distracted by the unexpected sight of a figure robed in red approaching the scene. Perturbed, he nonetheless tried to continue in the hopes that the figure would stay far away.

"...um, shall change our vile body, that it may be, um, like unto his..."

Disgusted, he glanced up again as did the rest of the mourners, shocked when they saw who the figure advancing towards the funeral was. It was a classy woman wearing lipstick and with a parasol! The entire group of mourners were utterly outraged. How dare a woman like her come uninvited to a funeral such as this?

The woman held her silence for a moment, quite amused by their reactions to her sudden appearance. Taking her position by the end of the grave, she cheerfully but smugly said; "Do continue."

The Vicar did his best to do so; "...uh, whereby he is able to subdue all things - Madam, I must protest!"

The woman was slightly surprised but not offended; she'd almost expected such a reply; "Whatever for?"

"A lady at the graveside is debatable enough. But your apparel..!"

The woman grinned rather mischievously. These fools had no idea what was coming for them. "Is it too exciting?"

Enraged at her comments, one of the mourners; Mr Cole, a 60 year old gentleman, burst out; "You're disgracing the ceremony! Dressed like a harlot!"

The woman scoffed. "Oh, and you should know, Mr Cole."

Mr Cole's eyes narrowed at the woman. Just what was she doing here anyway? "How d'you know my name?!"

The woman sighed, feeling quite superior to these thankless fools. She almost wanted to just dispose of them forever and now, but she couldn't afford to do so. Some of them had an important purpose. "You've walked past me, so many times, all you good men of charity. Never once asking my name."

Another mourner, Mr Scoones, a stiff gentleman in his 50s, perked up. "...it's Miss Hartigan, isn't it?"

Miss Hartigan was practically flattered; "Oh, you noticed. I saw you looking. Cheeky boy."

Mr Scoones was extremely offended at her behaviour – how could she be so provocative and gratuitous in her manner? He found this sort of unwarranted attitude to be utter codswallop!

"I'm sorry, but who is she?" Demanded the Vicar, desperate to finish off the ceremony.

"Matron of the St Joseph's Workhouse. Your humble servant." Miss Hartigan replied, beginning to glide about the mourners in an intimidating fashion. Her blood red gown gave all of the men an appropriately bloodthirsty aura to think of, and they began to feel a little frightened.

She continued; "Oh, I've watched you all. Visiting. Smiling. Bestowing your beneficence upon the poor. While I scrubbed down their filthy beds."

"I must insist that you depart -" Started the angry Vicar, but Hartigan brushed on with her incredibly patronising monologue, staring down at the coffin of the mysteriously deceased Revered.

"But that's why the late Reverend Fairchild had to die. To gather you all in one place. Where better than a funeral? Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live... Although I've got some friends who might disagree with that. Would you like to meet them? Hark! I can hear them now."

It was as if the mist had cleared purposely for the arrival of demons from hell. They would need to see beyond the darkness they had created in order for their victims to be slaughtered like helpless animals, so they initially appeared like silhouettes…

But then the silhouettes expanded, growing until silver mechanical shapes boomed into view, their shadows stretching far and horrifically along the snowy ground until they practically touched the souls of the terrified mourners.

The loud stomping echoed like the drum beats of a military march, the metal-soldiers playing them to their greatest impact in order to chill their enemies to the spot. No Victorian man could ever look at these creatures and not believe they were as hellish as they looked. But one Victorian woman? Absolutely.

The mourners stared around in all directions; the monstrosities were approaching at every angle so it looked like there was no escape…And their brains were ready to leap into fight or flight mode!

"This is the devil's work!" Cried out one mortified mourner, already cowering by his associates.

Focusing on the objective of her task very neatly, Miss Hartigan barked out orders in a very un-Victorian way; "Now, Mr Cole, Mr Scoones, Mr Fetch, Mr Milligan, please stay where you are. You're needed. The rest of you are disposable. Sorry!"

Astounded and shivering, the Vicar looked as if he were about to beg for mercy. Yet instead he had only one question on his mind; "But what manner of men are they?

"Cybermen." Joyfully answered Miss Hartigan, not moving a muscle except those controlling her head as she watched her metallic companions advance ever close to the fulfilment of the rest of the mourners' dooms.

Suddenly, three Cybershades simultaneously leapt out from behind some graveyards, hissing like the most vicious guard-dogs a family could ever own. Their bronze Cyber-Heads twitched and glinted in the mist as their feral conduct began to torment the mourners.

And then the mourners were launched into instant panic! They fled across the graveyard into every gap possible, totally startled and afraid for their lives.

"Save yourselves!" "Quickly! Get away from me!" Some of them yelled and muttered timidly, convinced they were being haunted by the demonic spirits of the underworld. Perhaps these 'Cybermen' were all that were left of some of the children who'd died in their workhouses…

For every part of the graveyard a mourner would dash across, they would always meet an electrifying end by means of a deadly Cyberman whose arms would always be outstretched. Their victims toppled down quite pitifully, the look of fear and agony on their faces forever preserved thanks to the electric shock.

Strongly now, Miss Hartigan barked; "I repeat, Mr Cole, Mr Scoones, Mr Fetch and Mr Milligan - stay!"

These four men were probably the most scared of all, but they could not dare to run away. As the 3 Cybershades surrounded them, they noticed that some of the remaining mourners who had not yet been killed had been blasted to the ground by some sort of firearm weapon that shot a glowing light…

The dignity of these desperate and stumbling mourners was all gone; all meeting their destiny as their lives flashed before their eyes in a gruesome sight. Gaping and smoky holes emerged in their chests, forever embedded in the minds of the four spared men standing by Miss Hartigan.

The Vicar had started to run too; blundering past the gravestones as a few other Cybershades hounded on their victims. But soon he too ran into a Cyberman and wailed out in terror – the four men flinched and didn't open their eyes until his cries had been silenced.

"You monstrous witch." Mr Cole reprimanded her, convinced she was servant of the devil himself. Why else would she be wearing a red gown? And these Cybershades could very well be her 'familiars'…

"Merry Christmas to you too." She unleashed yet another smug quip.

"But why are we spared? What do you need us for?" Mr Scoones demanded, more frightened about the unknown than the known of this terror.

"Your children." She smiled. "It's funny, now I think of it, but in all these years, not one of you has asked my first name."

The men were all speechless with rage and shock.

"It's Mercy." She developed her expression into a larger smile of pure despicable evil.

This was her revenge for all the mistreatment she had suffered in her formative years from men such as these. All grown up and let off from their terrible crimes. But she had committed one herself; and gosh, did revenge truly work best as a dish served cold on this Christmas Day…

* * *

Far into the night of that same day, the Other Doctor and his companion Rosita were thrilled to be showing off their pride and glory; the TARDIS. A space and time machine that would wonder off into the cosmos and see of time bend and ripple across it like a world of dreams. Long had this Victorian Adventurer dreamed of taking to the skies and exploring the fourth dimension at last, but alas, the dastardly Cybermen had got in his way.

"There she is! My transport through time and space. The Tardis!" He beamed gleefully, stepping out into an internal factory courtyard lined by walls.

What the Eleventh Doctor and Donna had expected was quite a mystery, but even they did not expect the sight before them!

"It's…A balloon? This is the TARDIS – a hot-air balloon?" Stuttered the Time Lord, half-bewildered and half-impressed.

Donna found it hard to believe also; "Well…It's certainly a magnificent one, Doctor. I like it!"

"Thank you Madam. Yes it is, isn't it. T-A-R-D-I-S, it stands for Tethered Aerial Release Developed In Style! D'you see?" The Other Doctor said as he walked proudly around the balloon.

"Now I do." Admitted the Doctor, though this was really because he'd figured out the truth. "Erm, excellent! A good TARDIS, I must say. I suppose it's inflated by gas?"

"We're adjacent the Mutton Street Gasworks, I pay them a modest fee." Explained the Other Doctor, stopping to look up at the top of the balloon in all its glory. "Good work, Jed!"

Jed was a factory worker, aged about 25. His clothes were fairly well suited and it was easy to tell how much effort he put into his work every day. Keeping the balloon ready was clearly a paid extra job, as demonstrated by the fee the Other Doctor paid him.

"Glad to be of service, sir!" Jed grinned, enthusiastically taking the pound note from the Victorian Adventurer.

"How comes you've got so much money Doctor?" Donna queried, knowing that her Doctor never really carried any form of payment. He had the Psychic Paper to rely on instead to get him special authority or access.

"Oh, you get nothing for nothing! And how's that rip panel, Jed?" The Other Doctor calmly dismissed this question, still focusing on the state of the 'TARDIS'.

"All repaired, should work a treat. You never know, maybe tonight's the night, Doctor! Imagine it, seeing Christmas from above." Jed replied, hoping to see all his hard work come to fruition soon.

The Other Doctor shook his head. "Not yet, I think. But one day I shall ascend. One day soon."

"You've not even flown up in it before?" Donna look closer at his expression, eyeing the strange aura within the Victorian Doctor's manner. He felt and talked like the Doctor, but there were so many holes in his lifestyle that simply weren't matching up.

Rosita huffed; "He dreams of leaving, but he never does."

Donna couldn't believe this; "Not even once? Not even to test it out and pop back later? I mean, it's supposed to be a time machine!"

"No Madam, I dare not leave too soon." His face now became determined yet anxious. "I can depart, in the Tardis, only once London is safe. And finally, when I'm up there... Think of it. The time, and the space."

"The ultimate escape…" Murmured the Eleventh Doctor. "But from what?"

The Other Doctor froze, unsure of himself. He looked down at the ground solemnly, and then up again into the sky as he were daydreaming.

Then he concluded in a very disturbed tone; "I wonder about that with every waking hour."

"Then I can tell you. I believe I've finally worked it out now." The Eleventh Doctor revealed, removing his hat to show curtesy.

The Other Doctor stared at 'John Smith' in amazement. This remarkable man truly had all the answers to his dilemmas, it seemed. He instantly gave him a look of approval, ready to uncover the real motives behind his adventuring.

"There's only one possible way you've could've become the Doctor." The Time Lord sighed. "And it won't be easy for you to comprehend…"

* * *

Blank faces rested upon the figures of Mr Cole, Mr Scoones, Mr Fetch & Mr Milligan. Their brains had been wired up via a pair of electronic ear-pods, far out of their time and space in this universe and had practically stripped them of emotion. Their objectives were all that mattered now, and Miss Hartigan was ready to give them their final command for the task.

"Mr Cole, Mr Scoones, Mr Fetch and Mr Milligan!" The Matron barked, gliding around them to examine that they were properly prepared. "You have your instructions, and the Court of the CyberKing is waiting. But first of all, let's just see. A little test. Turn right."

Instantly, the Victorian gentleman swivelled themselves 90 degrees to the right, then to the left as Miss Hartigan then ordered them to face her. The perfect drone-like servants for the dastardly Cybermen to put to good use. Plus, they were disposable!

"Oh I could do this forever." She remarked slyly, but soon retained her focus. "But now set about your appointed tasks! And bring them to me."

As the gentlemen departed in different reactions, Miss Hartigan returned to her carriage. One vicious crackle of the whip shuddered painfully onto the Horse's back, as a feral Cybershade driver screeched even louder than the horse in an effort to speed it up.

To any ordinary Londoner walking about the city at this time of the night, this was like something out of a nightmare – a nightmare of a world purely of metal and violence.

* * *

As the brazier stayed alit and burned to provide enough warmth and comfort within the coldness of a Victorian London's winter, the Other Doctor and Rosita sat down patiently on some haystacks, awaiting the story that 'John Smith' would reveal to them.

Before they could even begin however, Donna had taken the Eleventh Doctor into a nearby room in the factory outhouse. Now they were whispering several things in a discussion so quiet and long that it seriously concerned the Other Doctor.

How much did these two really know? Had they not told him something he should've known? Perhaps Miss Donna Noble was having some key background information on the Cybermen explained to her.

Yes, that seemed to fit; how else would 'John Smith' know all about the Cybermen unless he'd encountered them before? If so, then he truly was exactly what he needed to defeat them.

Eventually their discussion finally came to an end and they sat down on some haystacks opposite to their guests. Both of them displayed a solemn and troubled expression that didn't make the mood feel any better, though hopefully they had their reasons.

With a quick adjustment of his frock-coat and a dust-off of his hat, the Eleventh Doctor stared up at the swashbuckling Victorian adventurer.

He spoke appropriately as if he were telling a ghost story, constantly twitching his eyes back and forth between his audience members; including Donna despite the fact she likely knew where the story was going.

"The story begins with the Cybermen. Creatures from a universe hidden beneath our own, just out of sight. But then a long time away, and not so far from here... the Cybermen were fought, and they were beaten, and they were sent into a howling wilderness, called the Void. Locked inside forevermore. But then a greater battle rose up, so great that everything inside the Void perished. But as the walls of the world weakened, the last of the Cybermen must have fallen through the dimensions. Back in time. To land here. And they found you."

Enthralled by the man's complex but deep tale, the Other Doctor felt a renewal of the brief flashes of his past. This time they moved quicker than ever, paining his brain harder than ever before – it all seemed to clip together accurately even though he'd never experienced some of what the Eleventh Doctor had explained.

"I fought them. I know that. But what happened..?" He nodded along, still confused about some of the details.

Now it was Donna's turn to help with the story: "The man you told us about did – Jackson Lake! He came here to London. Y'know, plenty of luggage and money to boot. Not sure what for…."

"Probably the winter season – that'd be my best guess." The Eleventh Doctor suggested, prompting a slight glance from Donna.

She didn't usually like being interrupted but tolerated it occasionally from the Doctor as sometimes his interventions were helpful.

"Yeah well…" Donna continued onwards. "Point is, he must've bumped into the Cybermen, too. And the info-stamps of his we found in the luggage, he took hold of one during an attack."

The Other Doctor frowned, only for a slight tingle of realisation and horror struck him when the Eleventh Doctor nodded and spoke as matter-of-fact; "And he did so exactly like you. Picked it up, flipped the safety, opened the core...You get the idea."

The Victorian Adventurer seemed in denial; "But he's dead. Jackson Lake is dead. The Cybermen murdered him."

The Doctor shook his head. "An interesting story my good man, but I'm afraid we're not so convinced. Besides, the body was never found, right? Yet you kept all his suitcases. And never brought yourself to open them."

Now stammering and almost clattering his teeth in fear, the Other Doctor flinched when the 'John Smith' leaned closer.

"Remember I told you about the fob-watch? Well…Let's say I re-considered my approach on how it holds the answers…"

Reluctant but realising it was the only clue to the truth, the frightened Victorian man held it out, and the Doctor turned it around.

Two letters were neatly inscribed on the back; J.L.

Feeling so sorry for the man, Donna sadly confirmed the revelation; "Your fob-watch is Jackson Lake's."

Rosita was absolutely stunned, not quite able to take this in. "Jackson Lake is you, sir..?"

The Victorian man's heart sank. He was on his last legs, desperately holding onto the vestiges of his presumed identity. "...but I'm the Doctor."

"You became the Doctor." The Eleventh Doctor corrected him. "It came from the Infostamp you picked up, containing a book about one particular man."

He clicked the info-stamp, which immediately displayed another flurry of moving images. This time they were spooling with footage of numerous men, all dressed in flamboyant, eccentric, futuristic or even smart and formal clothes. They appeared of different ages and manners, but every one of them seemed to have a serious or focused look about them.

"The Cybermen's database. Stolen from the Daleks inside the Void, I'd say. But it's everything you could want to know about the Doctor."

Towards the end, the Victorian man caught sight of a fairly familiar face; a man with spiky-hair and a large brown pin-stripe suit covered by a long brown trench-coat. The image was very much like his own, albeit less Victorian.

"That's him…" He breathed, realising some of the truth. "The man I saw that night the Cyberman came. But he…How?"

Just then, the projection of the spiky-haired Tenth Doctor raised a small silver-device in hands towards the middle of the footage. He pressed hard on the button and a bright-light beamed out from it, briefly occupying the picture before it switched to different footage.

At that very moment, out pulled the Eleventh Doctor the very same design of device; a Sonic Screwdriver, which with he copied the same scanning manoeuvre as the one performed in the footage.

The man's world-view was crushed as he looked at the device and then stared carefully into the eyes of the mysterious 'John Smith'. From the colour and movement of them alone, he could witness the enormous age and weariness of an alien far too ancient to match his youthful appearance. An old man in a young man's body – a Time Lord's body to be precise.

"Then it's you…You're the Doctor." Jackson Lake stammered miserably.

The real Doctor nodded, though not with as much as pride as Donna had witnessed his predecessor show during introductions. "Time Lord. Tardis. Enemy of the Cybermen. Yes – I'm very much the Doctor."

He switched the projection off, expecting Donna to continue the story for him, but when she didn't due to her sympathy for Jackson Lake, he did so instead.

"The Infostamp must have backfired. Streamed all of that information, about me, right inside your head."

The flashbacks made more sense now – Jackson Lake was transported to that very moment; backing away in horror when the cyber-converted beings turned their offensive to him, lifting up the info-stamp as a last stand, burning out the Cybermen's brains with it, but also gasping with pain from all the knowledge that clogged up his mind.

Quiet and upset in the present day, Jackson Lake clasped his hands in shame over his face as he accepted reality. "I'm nothing but a lie."

"No, don't be like that Mr Lake…" Donna leaned forwards to re-assure him. "So what if that info-stamp gave you all that knowledge? It doesn't change how brave you were. _You_ saved Rosita, _you_ defended London _you_ and built that TARDIS! You didn't need the Doctor to do that."

"And what else?" Jackson Lake murmured as his face became encapsulated in darkness.

The Doctor understood his tone; "That's not the whole story, is it? Something's still missing from your memory…"

"Tell me. What else?" Jackson Lake suddenly grew furious and frustrated with the Doctor. "I demand you tell me, sir! Tell me what they took!"

The Eleventh Doctor sighed; "Even with all that luggage you were too haunted to remember. One man doesn't need that much – you weren't alone."

Jackson Lake froze again, finally remembering another of the formerly buried details.

"An info-stamp can't just make a man lose his mind – you suffered a fugue state." Elaborated the Doctor, who was getting quieter and quieter. "It's where the mind just runs away, because it can't bear to look back. You wanted to become someone else, because Jackson Lake had lost so much."

Interrupting Jackson Lake's chance to even stutter out a reply was the chiming of bells in the distance, all supposed to lighten the mood. But for the four individuals seated in this factory outhouse it only dawned upon them the grim realisation further…

"Midnight. Christmas Day." Rosita breathed, then staring back at the man she'd previously known as the Doctor. She was horrified at the implications from his pained expressions.

The bells tolled twelve – and for the first time in what felt like ages, Jackson Lake could properly mourn. "I remember... Oh my God..."

In the silver nightmare he was backing away – watching in horror as the Cybermen advanced first not on him but a woman, who screamed in agony when the touch of a metallic hand caused her to erupt with the sizzle of electrocution.

"…Caroline." His weakened and exhausted voice breathed out. A long and unsettling silence followed as he stared into nothingness. "They killed my wife."

"They killed her." He began to weep; reduced to an ordinary man. Not a hero, not a wild and eccentric adventurer, but an emotionally distraught human being.

Not even Rosita and Donna's sympathy for the man could break the silence – the bell chiming had stopped, and there was a spooky coldness re-emerging. The fire in the brazier was beginning to wear out.

The Doctor on the other hand, had completely broken eye contact with everyone else. He had yet again become lost in thought, probably to take his mind off the sadness of the revelations.

As Donna had suspected, this new Doctor was still at unease about himself. He wasn't in a bad mood or miserable like Jackson Lake was feeling now, but for the first time in a while he was concerned about his own unpredictability.

It was only when an abrupt bleep-bleep-bleep noise sounded around them that they were snapped out of their silence – the Eleventh Doctor raced into action, checking the info-stamps he had on him before searching Jackson Lake's luggage where he successfully discovered more!

An entire cache was sounding – some sort of signal. "Something's up – it's like an activation. A call to arms, no doubt!"

"A call to-" Donna quickly realised what he meant. "So they're preparing for battle stations?!"

"But what could they be doing? We never even found out their scheme." Rosita pondered aloud, fearing the worst.

The Cybermen had been beyond anything she'd been able to comprehend in her life, even with Jackson Lake at her side to help fend them off. If their master-plan was in motion, then surely it had to be something gigantic and madder than any of the chilling murders that had occurred across London…

The Doctor flicked on his black fedora again; tightened his dark frockcoat and belted out of view with only Donna to chase after him.

Not wanting to miss out on the action, Rosita felt the urge to follow them. But her loyalty to Jackson Lake left her torn; she turned to face him and gave him a 'what do I do?' face.

Jackson Lake simply nodded, and without sounding cheerful whatsoever said; "That Doctor and his friend need all the help they can get…Now go."

Rosita gave a deep sigh and reluctantly left him all alone. He was tired, frustrated, distraught but also concerned. A little tingle in his brain told him there was one last piece of the puzzle left to fill out. But what?

* * *

Christmas Day had gotten off to probably the weirdest start in a very long time.

When the Doctor and Donna rushed into the nearest street of Victorian London, they were confused to discover a long, continuous march of children ploughing through the marketplace.

Their faces were miserable and terrified; as if they'd just been yanked by the ear from the workhouses by the coldest men they'd ever encountered, but not told where they were going.

Indeed, at the head of the queue of marching children was the brainwashed Mr Cole – his cybernetic ear-piece still flashing and twittering uncontrollably.

The Doctor latched onto this detail instantly, ignoring the laughs and jeers of bystanders thinking the procession was some sort of practical joke. He waved into the elderly gentleman face but received no visible response. The man was devoid of any organic life aside from his body.

"Hello? Sir, can you hear me? Oi, there's something in your ear! D'you mind if I-?" The Time Lord asked as he tried to keep up with him.

Unfortunately, a low hiss informed him that Cybershades were on the lookout. He'd best not use the Screwdriver in case he was attacked – and risking the children's safety wasn't smart either.

At that same moment, Rosita rushed in to see Mr Cole going past and frowned at his unusual behaviour.

"Hey, that's Mr Cole. Master of the Hazel Street Workhouse. Maybe he's taking them to prayers." She suggested, not knowing what else a procession like this would mean.

"Whatever they're doing Rosita, I doubt it's anything holy." Donna murmured. "That metal thing we just saw in his ear – it's Cybermen technology, right?"

The Doctor nodded. "Yep – and whatever they've employed the likes of Mr Cole for, I wouldn't be surprised if he's not alone in doing it…"

"But then where could they be going?" Rosita piped up, puzzled.

"Hmph! All need a good whipping, if you ask me." Jed emerged beside them, having just bought himself a hot pie for a little Christmas snack. "There's tons of 'em, I've just seen another lot coming from the Ingleby Workhouse, down Broadback Lane-"

"Bingo!" The Doctor suddenly clicked his fingers. "Rosita, can you take us there?"

"This way!" She called, dashing off whilst the Time Lord dragged Donna along to the nearby street.

* * *

Just as Jed had described to the Doctor and his friends, there were dozens of children heading in similar processions towards the docklands. At the end of the queue marched the blank-faced Mr Fetch and Mr Milligan, extending their cruelty through a transformation from Victorian harshness to Cybernetic soullessness.

The children had marched for hours across countless streets in London, but it seems that they had at last hit the jackpot; they had been stopped in front of some dockland warehouses. Were they being employed into some tougher labour jobs than what they were used to in their workhouses?

Wrong.

Out from the swung open doors emerged the most un-earthly shapes they'd ever seen, although there was still a hint of something human about them. They made the children nearly jump out of their skins, and practically rooted them to the spot.

"You will continue. You will enter the Court of the CyberKing." Ordered Mr Scoones, displaying a completely abnormal reaction to the children's terror.

Some of the younger kids looked over their shoulders for a way out, but to their misery they witnessed the feral hound-esque figures of three Cybershades hissing at them as if they were guard dogs.

"March. That is an order. March!" Mr Scoones barked, almost snarling. That was the furthest his cybernetically hacked brain would be pushed to any sort of emotion.

* * *

Keeping their distance once they tip-toed into a nearby street in the same docklands, the three adventurers peered at the marching procession led by Mr Cole.

Two more Cybermen guarded the entrance as the children marched in. Slowly but surely they eventually swung the enormous doors shut, creating an echoing clang as if the gateway to an underworld was being sealed.

"That's the door to the sluice. All the sewage runs through there, straight into the Thames." Rosita mumbled, not quite liking the idea of going into an area so damp and dirty.

Donna seemed to concur with the Victorian companion's attitude; "Alright spaceman, time for Plan B. Find another entrance!"

"Right-o." Nodded the Doctor, realising the sluice would most likely be guarded within.

Hurrying back round the corner into yet another street, the travellers suddenly skidded to a halt when they spotted what was there to greet them; Miss Hartigan, flanked by two Cybermen!

"Oh dear. Now that – that's very discourteous. But I should've known better – you tin-cans just can't help sneaking up on people, can you? Put your legs on silent now, hm?" Quipped the Doctor, holding his two companions back as he gazed deeply into the eyes of Miss Hartigan.

"So what do we have here?" She smirked – curious of the lack of fear the ringleader of these three was showing.

The Doctor picked up on her manner of speech; "Aha! That's not a cyber-speech pattern is it? No visible signs of conversion – your eyes seem natural. Though those chaps, they're not approaching you, so….Ah. That's quite a pity Madam, you've made this much harder now."

Miss Hartigan rolled her eyes; "Spare me your ramblings sir, I have no patience for such tomfoolery." Her smile suddenly returned. "Not unless you can entertain me."

"As your metal friends seem to be doing?" Muttered the Time Lord grimly; he could guess from her behaviour that she was in league with the Cybermen.

Miss Hartigan was slightly amused; "My fine boys? Why, they're like knights in shining armour. They offered all me all I've ever wanted; liberation."

Already bored by the woman's drearily playful comments, Rosita cut to the chase and demanded; "And who does that make you then?"

As if she'd only just noticed the Victorian companion's presence, Miss Hartigan's tone snapped into a spiteful one; "You can be quiet. I doubt your masters paid you to talk."

Outraged by the severely outdated attitudes Miss Hartigan had just spouted, Donna stepped forwards and growled at her; "You take that back you-"

However, the Doctor cut his companion off before she her temper got too heated and leaned forwards in a no-nonsense posture. He could not afford to procrastinate, not now. "She has every right to speak, if you don't mind. But I doubt the Cybermen will pick and choose their victims with mercy, right?"

Miss Hartigan frowned again, briefly ignoring his comment on Rosita's rights. "Who are you, sir? With such intimate knowledge of my companions."

"You may call me Doctor." The Time Lord stated matter-of-factly, very blunt and straight to the point.

One of the Cybermen lurched its metallic gaze in his direction; "_Incorrect. You do not correspond to our image of the Doctor._"

"Blame it on your database then, it's been corrupted. So how about this for proof, aye? The Doctor's Infostamp –" The Doctor tossed the device into the palm of the Cyberman.

The rusty fist clenched the info-stamp in mid-air, immediately drawing it to the scanners where its eyes should have been to inspect it.

"_The core has been damaged. This Infostamp would damage Cyberunits._" The cyborg droned, before clicking the end of the core to close it. "_Core repaired. Downloading data._"

Within a split-second, familiar multiple images of the Doctor's previous incarnations whizzed across its scanner eye-holes. After processing the information, the Cyberman promptly unclipped the info-stamp.

"_Anomaly. Neither known entity identifying as the Doctor appears on this info-stamp._"

The Doctor was disappointed; "Oh come on, surely you can figure that out. I-"

"_THE DOCTOR HAS THE ABILITY TO REGENERATE!_"

The Time Lord froze, shifting his attention away from the intrigued Miss Hartigan and her Cybermen guards. Another figure had entered the fray, this time endearing a sense of déjà vu that he had not expected to witness in this stage of his life.

This silver figure was more slightly more humanoid; though similar to the two menaces flanking Miss Hartigan in that it held a rigid-mask like head with eyeless sockets. But there was no shape resembling any sort of nose, though they did possess immobile mouth-like apertures. One could spy on it as it spoke to notice a silver lip ever-so-slightly bouncing down then up, signifying the remnants of the person they had once been. Hands like firm gauntlets were joined to arms of thick and incredibly tubular limbs that nobody would want to be attacked by. A cylindrical power-pack was strapped onto its back that pulsated a rhythmic hissing noise through tubes connected to box-like units on its chest. Aside from the blunt-nosed blaster weapon strapped over its shoulder, one key element stood out about it; it had no Cybus Industries logo anywhere in sight.

"_IT SEEMS OUR PATHS HAVE ONCE AGAIN CROSSED, TIME LORD. BUT YOUR NEW APPEARANCE CHANGES NOTHING – THE ALLIANCE OF CYBER-KIND HAS SUCCEEDED!" _Announced the figure of a Cyberman that originated not from a parallel universe filled with Zeppelins and the legacy of mastermind John Lumic, but from a cyber-converted race of the long-gone planet Mondas…


End file.
